The Truth Remains
by FallenAngel218
Summary: This is a four-part series of one-shots. Tony doesn't know why Tim left, just that he's gone, and he's not coming back. Tim desperately wants to tell Tony why he left, but will he tell him? What will be the repercussions? McNozzo.
1. The Truth Remains

_**Author's Notes:** The song that inspired me to write this series is "Gone" performed by NSYNC. In trying to obey the "no songfic" rules here at fanfictionDOTnet, I'm going to remove the lyrics from this and the following fics in the series. To read the series with the lyrics, you can find it over on AO3 or on the NFA Forum (if you are on there)._

Two months, three days, and twenty-two hours.

Tony counted. He'd never counted before. He was usually the one to break off the relationship.

He stared at the empty desk. He'd been staring at it every day since he left.

Two months, three days, and twenty-two hours.

How could he let this happen? Everything was good - great, even. They were happy, and things on the team couldn't have been better. Then, he'd disappeared. Tony woke up one morning to find Tim's things gone from the closet. Not a trace of him was left in Tony's apartment. He didn't even leave a note.

Tony knew it was really over when Tim stopped coming to work. One day, Tim's desk was bare when Tony came to work. He'd put in for a transfer, Gibbs told him. He went to Cyber Crimes, a placed he'd loathed when Vance sent him there years ago. For Tim to request Cyber Crimes, Tony must've screwed up big time.

But what had he done?

He tried to imagine that Tim was sitting at his desk. Imagining didn't bring him back upstairs, or back into Tony's life.

He noticed Gibbs glaring at him, and reluctantly turned away from the empty desk. He stared at his computer screen, at the search that was running on a partial license plate, but he couldn't concentrate for shit. His eyes kept wandering to the photo lying on his desk.

The photo was taken in a bar. They'd been out for drinks, and he'd asked the waitress to take their picture. They were happy.

The picture was worthless, now. He shoved it into his drawer, and out of his sight. It was only a reminder of the empty desk.

Tony remembered about a month ago, when things started to get strange between them. Tim had started to become distant. They'd spent their evenings quietly, Tony watching one of his DVDs, and Tim tapping away at his typewriter in the study.

He should have known then that things were spiraling downward. Why didn't he do something about it?

Never in a million years did he see the repercussions of his inactivity. He never thought the end of their relationship would be the end of the team.

It was back to Tony and Gibbs. It hadn't been that way since before Kate. It felt weird, unnatural even. First, they lost Kate. Then, Ziva. He never thought about losing Tim.

The computer beeped. His search was finally over. His computer showed him a match - a blue Buick, of all cars. He waved his hand to get Gibbs' attention.

"I've got a match. Light Blue Buick, registered to Lieutenant James Grady."

"Good work, DiNozzo. Let's go get him."

Tony nodded and grabbed his gear. Maybe if he got out of NCIS for a while, he'd stop thinking about Tim.

The suspect was apprehended with no trouble. He'd tried to run, as they all do, but Gibbs had him in cuffs by the time Tony caught up. Gibbs glared at him as he stuffed the suspect into the back of the car. Huffing and puffing, Tony slid into the passenger seat. Gibbs started the engine, and the drive back to NCIS was silent.

Tony took the Lieutenant down to holding, while Gibbs went on a coffee run. He managed to get him down there without an issue, and was relieved to be alone again.

Alone.

Without _him._

Shit. Maybe he didn't want to be alone.

The rest of the day was painstakingly slow. They didn't catch another case, so he remained at his desk, catching up on paperwork.

By lunchtime, Tony was going to go stir crazy. He'd been looking up from his paperwork every five seconds, to stare at the empty desk.

Gibbs sent him to lunch, _away_ from his desk.

Tony invited Jimmy to lunch. They ate in the cafeteria. Jimmy tried to cheer him up by relating some amusing stories from Ducky. Tony smiled, but it wasn't genuine.

The only thing on his mind was Tim.

Tony went to Autopsy with Jimmy, to get a report from Ducky that he'd emailed down this morning. Ducky had it ready for him. He also tried to cheer Tony up.

Tony fake smiled again, and took his report and left.

He got on the elevator and it started its ascent. Shortly after it started, the elevator stopped. Tony froze when it slid open.

Tim.

Tim got in and the doors closed. Tim was reading a file, and didn't acknowledge Tony.

It was the most awkward elevator ride Tony had ever experienced. Tim didn't say a word, and neither did he.

He wasn't sure what to say, if anything.

Finally, after an eternity of silence, the elevator dinged, and opened at the squad room. Tony got off, and turned back instinctively, waiting for Tim to get off.

He remained on the elevator.

Tony watched it close.

 _But the truth remains, you're..._

 **END**


	2. Maybe the Truth Is Yours

_**Rating:** FR-15 for language_

 _ **Summary:** Sequel to "The Truth Remains." After seeing Tony in the elevator at NCIS, Tim finds himself unable to stop thinking about him, and decides to tell Tony the reason he decided to leave._

 _ **Notes:** Song-fic, extended from "The Truth Remains." There is a third and final part, to be posted at a later date. The song is "Gone" by NSYNC. (Lyrics left out to comply with site rules - full story with lyrics embedded can be found on AO3)._

 _ **Warning:** This fic, and the one before it, is not strictly in canon. At all. As a result, Tony, and Tim especially, are going to be acting out of character._

He should have said something.

That was all Tim could think about since he let the elevator doors close at the squad room level without saying a word to Tony.

He should have said something.

 _Anything._

He let the elevator take him back to Cyber Crimes, and he made his way quietly to his desk. He dropped the file into his inbox and practically fell into his chair. He had code to finish decrypting for a case of Balboa's, and the Lead Agent needed the information fast. Tim smiled. Balboa was almost like Gibbs, in his mannerisms.

As the code whizzed by on his computer screen, Tim started to feel himself getting sluggish. He took a sip of his coffee, and cringed when he realized it was cold, and stale.

He'd have realized that if he weren't still thinking about Tony.

Tim was a good fit for Cyber Crimes, and he was excellent at his job, but he longed to be back on Gibbs' team. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he put in for a transfer, or why on Earth Gibbs had let him do it, but he regretted it more every day.

There was only one way he was going to get any work done, or get any sleep, for that matter.

He had to see Tony. Tonight. 

The day had gone on for far too long. Tony was glad to be home at such an early hour. He'd taken off as soon as his paperwork was done on their current case. Gibbs hadn't said much. He acknowledged Tony's departure with a nod of his head.

He changed into sweats and grabbed himself a beer. He flipped on the basketball game and sat down on the couch to settle in for the night.

A knock on his door an hour later roused him from a restless sleep.

 _I must have fallen asleep during the game._

He pushed himself off the couch and went to answer the door.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Tim standing there, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

"What are you doing here?" Tony managed to say.

"Can we talk?"

Tony stared into his former partner's eyes. There was something different about them. Something...glassy.

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little."

"Get in here and sit down, before you fall down, McGee."

Tim felt the blow in the pit of his stomach. He deserved to be called by his last name. Tony hadn't done that in years. He tried not to stumble as he came in and sat down on the couch.

"What's on your mind?" Tony asked as he sat down in the recliner across from Tim, and turned off the TV.

Tim didn't say anything.

"Come on, Tim. You take off in the middle of the night, don't leave a note, and then have the balls to transfer down to Cyber Crimes, without so much as a word as to why. You obviously came over here to tell me something after two months, so tell me."

"I owe you an explanation for doing what I did," Tim finally said. "There's no possible way to tell you that won't result in me not leaving here with a black eye, so I'm just going to tell you straight out. The night after you came home without Ziva, I went to a bar and had more to drink than I've ever had in my life. I ended up in the backseat of my car with a woman I barely knew. I don't remember much of what happened, but I remember sleeping with her, and missing cash from my wallet the next morning when I woke up in my car."

"You slept with a hooker?" Tony said angrily.

"I'm not sure whether she was or not," Tim confessed. "I remember talking to her at the bar, and having several drinks with her. When I left the bar, I remember feeling lightheaded, and then I remember being in the backseat of my car with her."

"So you either let some random woman drug you, or you got drunk and slept with a hooker."

Tim nodded, eyes dropping to his lap.

"I was embarrassed. I called into work that day, told Gibbs I had the flu. I went to Abby's after that."

"That explains why you never came home that night."

Tim nodded.

"I came back here around 2 a.m. and packed up my stuff. You were out cold in bed. You didn't even move."

"Why didn't you at least leave a note? Who just leaves someone cold, and doesn't even leave a note, or even call the next day?"

"I-I'm sorry. I know that's empty now, coming two months later, but I'm so sorry, Tony."

"I can't believe you didn't come to me, Tim! You never do things like that, ever,and you know that I know that. How is leaving me and transferring to Cyber Crimes a way to solve the problem?"

"I really fucked this up, didn't I?"

"That's the understatement of the millennium, Tim."

There was a pause in the conversation. Tim started to stand up.

"I have to go."

"Not so fast, McEasyPants. Sit down. You're not driving anywhere with alcohol in your system."

"You called me a McNickname," Tim said, trying to smile, as he fell back onto the couch.

"It wasn't a compliment."

Tim's smile faded.

"Listen, Tony, I-"

"No, _you_ listen to _me_ this time," Tony said sternly, interrupting him. "Was our relationship worth anything to you? Our friendship?"

"You know it did - it does," Tim said. He was starting sober up a bit, and a headache was coming on.

"I call bullshit on that answer. If you cared, you would have come to me and told me what happened. We could have gotten through that just fine. Everyone makes mistakes. What you did to me is inexcusable."

"I wish I could take it all back."

"It's too late for that now."

"Is there ever a chance we could be friends again?"

"I'm going to need time," Tony said as he reached behind the couch and came up with a blanket. "This isn't something that can be fixed with a couple of "I'm sorry's" and a movie night. You treated me like a piece of garbage, and that's not cool at all."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Tony tossed him a blanket. "Get some sleep. I'm taking your keys and locking them in my safe. You don't leave until you're sober."

"Okay."

Tony turned and stormed into his room, Tim's keys in his hand, and slammed the door behind him. Tim flinched as the door slammed.

 _How the hell am I going to fix this?_

He lay down on the couch and pulled the Ohio State blanket over himself. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the throw pillow.

The smell of coffee woke Tim up early the next morning. He sat up and looked toward the kitchen. Tony was pouring some coffee into a travel mug. He was dressed for work.

Tim spotted his car keys on the coffee table. He got up and folded the blanket, and set it on the couch. He picked up his keys, put on his coat and left.

He didn't see Tony come into the living room, holding a second cup of coffee, and he didn't see Tony throw it against the wall in anger.

 _But the truth remains, you're..._

 **Part Three Coming Soon...**


	3. The Truth Will Out

_**Summary:** Part 3 of my "Truth" series. In the weeks following Tim's confession, Both Tim and Tony try to make sense of the situation between them._

 _ **Pairings:** McNozzo_

 _**Additional Notes:** Extended Song-Fic. Song is "Gone" by NSYNC. See the version of this fic on AO3 to read it with the lyrics embedded._

It had been over a week since he'd shown up drunk at Tony's apartment and spilled his guts about what he'd done. Tony hadn't spoken to him since. Things at work had fallen back into how they'd been for the past two months. Tim hid down in Cyber Crimes, and Tony kept himself occupied with arresting criminals, with Gibbs.

He was a damn fool to think that he could fix things in one night, by telling Tony the truth. To make things worse on himself, he'd run off like a coward the next morning, rather than face Tony sober.

 _What the hell is wrong with me? When did I get to be so fucking stupid?_

"McGee!"

Tim looked up to see Agent Roper standing outside his office door, crooking a finger at him. Tim sighed and heaved himself up from his desk, and went into Roper's office.

"Shut the door."

He did so, and sat down.

"What's going on?" Roper asked.

"Nothing, sir. I'm fine."

"If you were fine, Tim, you'd still be upstairs on Gibbs' team. Not that I don't like having you down here, but what's going on? Every report you've turned in has been riddled with errors, and last week it took you all day to decipher some code that would have taken you 30 seconds in the past."

Tim ran a hand over his unshaven face.

"I'm sorry, it's just-personal issues."

"With DiNozzo?"

"How-how did you- I mean-"

"You two weren't as secretive as you thought," Roper said with a wink.

"Crap."

"Don't worry," Roper said with a smile. "Your personal life is none of my business. Your job performance, on the other hand, is a priority."

"I understand, Sir."

"Do you want to be down here, Agent McGee?"

Tim didn't answer right away, and Roper got the answer to his question.

"You should be working where you're happy, Tim. I'd be glad to let you stay down here as long as you like, but I know you really want to be upstairs."

"Do I have to decide right now?"

"Of course not. Take your time. In the meantime, I need these three reports done, the right way." He handed Tim three files.

"I'll get on these right away," he said, standing and taking the files. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Tim." 

Gibbs had been keeping a watchful eye on Tony for a couple of weeks. Tony had tried to keep his personal life away from his work, but it was tough when the personal problem worked right downstairs. They'd picked up a case or two, and they were thankfully open-and-shut. It wasn't until he'd screwed up today, that he noticed Gibbs watching him more than usual.

They'd gone out to pick up a suspect in their latest case, and Tony had practically had him in cuffs. The suspect elbowed Tony in the gut, and made a run for it. Tony had gone after him, but was unable to keep up with him, and the suspect got away. Now, he was siting at his desk, trying to use his computer to track down the suspect he'd lost.

 _Get yourself together, DiNozzo,_ he told himself as he watched the searches run. The truth was, he was nowhere near as together as he wanted to be. He was still trying to process what Tim had told him. He'd been ready to talk civilly the next morning, but Tim was gone when he came out into the living room.

 _The fucking coward - all he knows how to do is run away._

A shadow over his desk brought his eyes up, to meet Gibbs' icy stare.

"You okay, DiNozzo?"

"I'm good, Boss. Just some personal issues."

"Deal with them after you finish your report. It was supposed to be on my desk an hour ago."

 _Shit... I need to write that, don't I?_

"On it, Boss."

Tony pulled up the empty report he'd meant to fill in, and started typing. Gibbs was right. There was work to be done.

Tim hovered in Gibbs' open basement doorway. He hadn't spoken to the man in almost three months. He wasn't entirely sure coming here was a good idea, to begin with, but somehow, he found himself here.

"Come down here or leave, McGee," Gibbs called from the basement.

 _Shit. Well, here goes nothing._

Tim made his way downstairs. Gibbs was working on one of his smaller projects. He stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets.

"How are you?" Tim managed to get out. It was the only thing he could think to start with.

"Nothing's changed - except my team."

"About that... I uh-"

"You want back on the team."

"Yeah."

Gibbs set down his tools and turned to face Tim.

"Why?"

"I hate Cyber Crimes."

"I'm sure Vance can reassign you somewhere else. Maybe MTAC."

"That's not what I want."

"Then stop looking at my floor, and look at me and tell me what you _do_ want, McGee."

Tim raised his eyes to meet Gibbs' icy glare.

"I want to be a field agent. It's the reason I joined NCIS. I can't go back to sitting behind a computer again. Please, Gibbs."

Gibbs sat silently for a long time.

"If your transfer request is on my desk tomorrow morning, I'll submit it to Vance. I can't guarantee anything 100 percent, McGee. You know that."

"I understand." Tim turned to leave.

"McGee," Gibbs called.

Tim stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around.

"Whatever happened between you and DiNozzo will stay out of the office. I don't want any disruptions while we're working a case. Is that understood?"

"Understood, Boss."

"Good. Go home."

Tim turned and left.

The empty desk was filled when Tony came back from lunch the next day.

Tim was typing up a report. All of his things were back in their place.

He walked over to Tim's desk before he could stop himself.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly.

"I talked to Gibbs. He let me transfer back."

Tony stood there for a second, formulating his next statement.

"We should talk."

Tim stopped typing and looked up at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

There was another awkward silence.

"Maybe we should talk later," Tim suggested. "Dinner at Norton's?"

"Okay."

Tony went back to his desk and got back to work, and Tim did the same, unaware that Gibbs had been watching them from his desk.

Trying was better than nothing.

 **TBC in Part 4...**


	4. Coming Back As We Are

_**Summary:** One month after Tim rejoins Gibbs' team, he and Tony continue to work on things._

 _ **Author's Notes:** Fourth and final piece in my "Truth" series. The song for this piece is "The Scientist" performed by Coldplay (To read the story with the lyrics embedded, please find me over on AO3). The title of this fic comes from a lyric in the song. This is written for the NFA "McNozzo: An Adventure in SMS" Challenge._

The bullpen was uncharacteristically silent, for a Monday afternoon. Gibbs' team had just wrapped up a case, and all were working on case reports. Usually, Gibbs would have expected banter from his boys. Today, both of them silently worked, ignoring the fact that the other was in the room.

Gibbs knew something was going on between Tony and Tim, and he hadn't bothered to lecture them on Rule 12. They were adults, and he'd treat them as such and let them work out whatever they needed to on their own, as long as their work wasn't affected.

A buzzing sound brought Gibbs' head up, and he saw McGee pick up his cell phone. At the same time, he saw Tony set his down on the desk.

 _I wonder what those two are up to._

Tim picked up his phone as it buzzed with a text message. He knew Gibbs had probably heard his phone go off, and the last thing he wanted was to be scolded for cell phone use at work, but he had to check it.

 _ **213-555-9845:** Dinner later? My treat. A new Italian place just opened up near my apartment._

The number was Tony's. Tim hadn't programmed it back into his phone yet, though he knew he should, at least for work. They'd been trying to work on their relationship since Tim had come out with the Truth about why he'd left Tony so many months ago. They'd had dinner a few times, gone out for a beer after work here and there, and had been amicable on the job, but there was still a long road ahead.

Tim quickly texted him back.

 _ **213-555-4102:** Sure. What's the address? I'll meet you there._

 _ **213-555-9845:** It's 240 N 51st street. How about seven?_

 _ **213-555-4102:** Sounds good, if we're out of here by then. See you there._

"Are you two done texting each other?" Gibbs said, startling Tim enough to drop his phone on his desk with a clatter. I'm sure I can find some cold cases that need to get inputted into the computer if you two are that bored with your case reports."

"Sorry, Boss," Tim said, turning back to his computer.

 _~7:30 p.m. - outside of Via Abruzzi's Italian Restaurant~_

Tim stood outside the main entrance of the Restaurant. Tony was supposed to meet him out front, and they would go in together. He was a half-hour late. Shivering, Tim took out his phone and texted him. 

_**213-555-4102:** Where the hell are you? I've been freezing my ass off outside of Via Abruzzi's for a half hour!_

He got a response back right away. 

_**213-555-9845:** Flat tire. I'm still back at the Yard._

 _ **213-555-4102:** Why didn't you call me sooner? It's five degrees out, Tony!_

 _ **213-555-9845:** I was more concerned about how my tire got flat at the moment._

 _ **213-555-4102:** Why did I bother to agree to this at all? This was such a bad idea. I'm going home._

 _ **213-555-9845:** You're an asshole. And I'm all right, thank you for asking._

 _ **213-555-4102:** Good night, Tony. See you tomorrow morning._

Tim put his phone into his coat pocket and headed for the parking lot. He should have known this wouldn't be worth his time.

Tony threw his phone onto the passenger seat of his car. Every time he tried to do something nice with Tim, this was how he was repaid. He'd tried for a month to work things out with Tim, to give him a second chance, but it obviously wasn't working out.

 _~ Next Morning... 0700 hours~_

Tim walked past his partner's desk without a second glance, and put his bag down. He knew Tony was probably glaring at him, and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

His phone buzzed as he sat down and turned on his computer. 

_**213-555-9845:** You look like you slept well last night. Not too worried about my well being, were you?_

 ****  
 _ **213-555-4102:** You said you were at the Yard. There's no safer place in D.C. to be stranded than here. And I'm still pissed that you didn't text me earlier that you weren't coming._

 _ **213-555-9845:** Catch a cold or something, McWhiner?_

 _ **213-555-4102:** Why can't you see that you were the one in the wrong last night?_

 _ **213-555-9845:** Because I wasn't wrong._  
 _  
_

"When you two are done having your text argument, we have a dead sailor in Anacostia," Gibbs growled from his desk as he got up and went for his backpack.

Tim glared at Tony as he stood and picked up his own pack. They'd continue this conversation later. Face to face.

It took them all day to drive to Anacostia and process the crime scene. The ride back to the Yard was silent. The three of them were crammed into the front of the truck.

Tim and Tony were practically smushed together, with Gibbs' driving. It had been a long time since Tony had any physical contact with Tim. To feel him, even in their present situation, brought some level of comfort to him.

Tony started to think over the previous night's events, and it occurred to him that he was the one that was being an ass, not Tim.

Gibbs pulled the truck into the evidence garage killed the engine.

"McGee, unpack all of this evidence and bring it to Abby. DiNozzo, with me."

Both of them silently got out of the truck and parted ways.

Tony got into the elevator with Gibbs and they rode silently up to the bullpen. As soon as he stepped from the elevator, Gibbs turned to him.

"Background on our dead Sailor. I want your findings in 15 minutes. And no texting."

"On it, Boss."

Tony went to his desk and did as he was told. He really wanted to text Tim, but Gibbs was keeping an eye on him the entire time.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Tim climbed up into the back of the truck and started to unpack the evidence totes. He was glad to finally be alone, after having been shoved in between Tony and Gibbs for the ride back from Anacostia. The ride had been painfully silent. He wished Tony would have made some rudimentary comment that made them all smile, like he always did.

 _This whole fight is fucking stupid,_ Tim thought as he hopped down from the truck with a bin full of blood samples. He set it on an evidence cart and climbed back in.

Tim wished he could erase the past six months from his life, and just go back to the way things used to be.

If only he were that lucky.

Tim's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he whipped it out and looked at it.

 _ **213-555-9845:** I'm sorry._

 ****  
 _ **213-555-4102:** Me too._

 _ **213-555-9845:** Come over tonight after work._

 _ **213-555-4102:** Okay._

 _ **213-555-9845:** This is Gibbs. Stop texting or I'll lock you in that evidence garage overnight._

Tim quickly pocketed his phone and got back to work.

 _~ That evening, about 8:00 p.m. ~_

Tony plopped down on the couch, beer in hand. Gibbs had let them go around seven that evening, which gave Tony enough time to get home in time for the Magnum, P.I. marathon that was starting at eight that night. He flipped the channel to TNT and kicked back, just as his buzzer sounded.

Assuming it was the pizza guy, Tony got up and pushed the call button.

"How much do I owe you?"

 _"Tony."_

Tony nearly dropped his beer when he heard Tim's voice. He'd almost forgotten about inviting Tim over. Tony nervously pushed the button to let Tim in, and unlatched the chain on his door. There was a knock a minute later, and Tony opened the door.

Tim took two steps into the apartment, put his hands on Tony's face, and kissed him. It was a searing, passionate kiss, and it took Tony by surprise. When they finally parted, Tony took a step back, chest heaving.

"Hi," he finally said, a small smile forming.

"Hi."

Their lips converged again with heated passion. Tim kicked the apartment door closed behind him as Tony pushed his jacket off. They made their way to the couch, their lips still attached, and made out like teenagers.

 _I'm going back to the start..._

 **END**


End file.
